A. Justification

I’m proposing this model as a model of
Christian belief’s having the sorts of epistemic virtues or positive
epistemic status with which we’ve been concerned: justification,
rationality of both the internal and the external variety, and warrant.
Justification needn’t detain us for long. There should be little doubt
that Christian belief can be and probably is (deontologically)
justified, and justified even for one well acquainted
with Enlightenment and postmodern demurrers. If your belief is a
result of the inward instigation of the Holy Spirit, it may seem
obviously true, even after reflection on the various sorts of
objections that have been offered. Clearly, one is then violating no
intellectual obligations in accepting it. No doubt there are
intellectual obligations and duties in the neighborhood; when you note
that others disagree with you, for example, perhaps there is a duty to
pay attention to them and to their objections, a duty to think again,
reflect more deeply, consult others, look for and consider other
possible
253defeaters. If you have done these things and still find the
belief utterly compelling, however, you are not violating duty or
obligation—especially if it seems to you, after reflection, that
the teaching in question comes from God himself.

Of course some writers charge that if
you have faith (as on the model) and think your belief comes from God,
then you are arrogant (and hence unjustified). Among the more
vivid is the theologian John Macquarrie:

The
Calvinist believes that he himself, as one of the elect, has been
rescued from this sea of error and that his mind has been enlightened
by the Holy Spirit. However much he may insist that this is God’s doing
and not his own, his claim is nevertheless one of the most arrogant
that has ever been made. It is this kind of thing that has rightly
earned for theology the contempt of serious men.316316Principles of Christian Theology
(New York: Charles Scribner, 1966,
1977), p. 50.

A
Calvinist’s first impulse might be to retort by asking whom or what
Macquarrie credits with furnishing him with the truth, when he finds himself disagreeing
with the bulk of humankind on religious matters (as, of course, he does):
his own cognitive prowess and native sagacity? his own
self-developed penetration and perspicacity? And is that attribution
less arrogant than to attribute enlightenment to the work of the Holy
Spirit? Rather than pursue this unprofitable retort, however, let’s
think a bit more soberly about the charge. First, note that the
accusation initially seems to be brought, not necessarily against
someone who actually has been
enlightened by the Holy Spirit, but against someone who
believes that she has. No doubt
it was the Holy Spirit who was at work in the hearts of the faithful
and faith-filled patriarchs and others mentioned in Hebrews 11;
but presumably they didn’t know about
the Holy Spirit and didn’t have any views to the effect that their
beliefs were due to the activity of the Holy Spirit. So perhaps
Macquarrie’s idea is that it’s all right to know something others
don’t, but it’s not all right to believe that you do,
attributing your knowledge to the Holy Spirit. His criticism is
directed, not necessarily toward a person who accepts Christian
teaching (even if in fact such a person has, as in the model, been
enlightened by the Holy Spirit), but toward someone who accepts the
bit of Reformed theology according to which the Holy Spirit illuminates
only some of us, and thinks that she is one of those thus illuminated.
And the criticism is that such a person has culpably come to think more
highly of herself than she ought.

We’ll look further into this charge of arrogance in chapter 13; for now,
let me just ask this. Suppose you believe that you have been favored by
the Lord in a way in which some others haven’t been: does it really
follow that you are arrogant? You recognize that in some respect you
are better off than someone else: perhaps you have a happy marriage, or
your children turn out well, or you are enjoying glowing good health
while a good friend is succumbing to melanoma. And suppose you
attribute at least part of the difference to God’s activity. Are you
then automatically arrogant? Isn’t it rather that you would be arrogant
if, instead, you thought the difference wasn’t attributable to God but was a
manifestation, say, of personal strength, or virtue, or wisdom on your
part? Suppose you think you know something someone else
doesn’t—perhaps Macquarrie thinks that he, as opposed to his
Calvinist friends, knows that the Calvinist view of faith is mistaken.
Is he thereby arrogant? If not, is it that he fails to be arrogant
because he does not attribute his good fortune to God, perhaps
attributing it instead to his own native good sense? That hardly seem
promising.

The
fact is there isn’t any arrogance involved as such in recognizing that
God has given you something he hasn’t (or hasn’t yet) given everyone.
Human beings are, indeed, tempted to arrogance, and often succumb; still,
one isn’t arrogant just by virtue of recognizing that God has given you
a good thing he hasn’t (yet, anyway) given everyone else. (You might be
as puzzled as anyone else that it is you who are the recipient of the gift.) Arrogance would
be involved, no doubt, if you thought of this gift as your
right, so that God would be
unjust if he didn’t give it to you. But you’re not culpable if you
believe your faith is a gift from the Lord and note that not everyone
has as yet received this gift. Indeed, the right attitude here, far
from a crestfallen admission that you have been arrogant in thus
believing, is gratitude and thanksgiving for this wonderfully great
gift.317317 See my “Ad de Vries,” The Christian Scholar’s
Review 19, no. 2 (1989), pp. 171–78. Hearing of Jesus
Christ’s resurrection, the apostle Thomas declared, “Unless I see
the nail marks in his hands and put my finger where the nails were, and
put my hand into his side, I will not believe it” (John 20:25). Later,
Jesus shows himself to Thomas, inviting him to look at the nail marks,
and put his hand into his side. Thomas then believes—upon which
Jesus says to him, “Because you have seen me, you have believed;
blessed are those who have not seen and yet have believed” (John
20:29). No doubt there is more than one point here; a central point,
surely, is that those who have been given faith are indeed blessed.
Their faith is a gift requiring joyful thanksgiving, not a moral lapse
requiring shamefaced repentance.
255One who has faith, therefore, is (or
may very well be) justified according to the model. And even apart from
the model: how could you fail to be justified, within your epistemic
rights, in believing what seems to you, after reflection and
investigation, to be no more than the truth?